


Wolves Without Teeth

by malaxandrite



Series: Brothers All [8]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, CC-3636 | Wolffe Needs A Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Episode: s05e19 To Catch A Jedi, Mental Health Issues, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Parental Plo Koon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wolffe has PTSD, if you're a ventress fan you won't like this fic, wildfire is babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malaxandrite/pseuds/malaxandrite
Summary: Something is wrong, Plo can feel it. It makes every muscle in his body tense as he stands up from his seat in the middle of the emergency Council meeting and practically sprints to the door. The Guardsmen startle as he runs down the halls to the hangar, but he pays their shouts little mind. He is only focused on one thing: Wolffe is in pain.
Relationships: Plo Koon & CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: Brothers All [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114940
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82





	Wolves Without Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Character Death, Vomit, Panic Attack
> 
> Mando'a translations in the end notes

Wolffe knows it's her as soon as they round the corner into the dingy alleyway they’ve tracked Commander Tano to. He knows it's her before he can get a proper look. He doesn’t need to see her face or the bloody whirl of her lightsabers. He sees her spindly limbs, ghostly pale skin, and movements as fluid as water and he knows. 

Ventress. 

“We’ve got eyes on Commander Tano, sir.” Boost says over their comms and Wolffe barely manages an affirmative. The Pack fans out around him, moving in formation to capture the renegade padawan, but all Wolffe sees is Ventress. He remains rooted in his spot, watching helplessly as she takes out Guardsmen like they're ants under her boots. 

Back then, on Khorm, the pain hadn’t seemed real. He was a different man then, more of what the _Kaminii’se_ expected him to be. All he’d focused on was not giving up any of the information she wanted, not letting General Koon down. Anything physical was an afterthought. 

But now he feels it. Pain blooms under his skin, like fresh blaster burns, sharp and hot. Ventress gets one the Guards in a headlock and Wolffe is reminded of how she choked him with the Force and held him several feet above the ground by the invisible grip around his neck. The worst of it, though, is his eye. It _burns._ It aches like someone’s rubbed salt over it. The entire right side of his face, alight with pain. He feels it right down to the optical nerve she’d burned through. 

He reaches up to feel the scar, but is only met with the cold plastoid of his helmet. He pulls the hand away from his face to look at it, it's shaking, but there’s a degree of separation between himself and the appendage, like it’s someone else’s hand attached to his body. His HUD lights up with a message about his heightened heart rate and blood pressure. His armor feels too tight. He needs out. _Out!_

Wolffe looks up, suddenly frantic, and sees her again. This time, she sees him too. 

“Commander.” Ventress purrs. The mask obscures her face, but Wolffe can see her tilted smirk anyway. She’s completely forgotten about the troopers around her. Wolffe’s feet move on autopilot, drawn toward her for a reason he doesn’t have the ability to comprehend. 

Behind her, an ARF trooper with armor drenched in red paint takes advantage of the distraction and wraps his arms around her stomach, picking her up. She flails, screaming. Another trooper gets a hold of one leg, but his visor gets shattered by a kick from her other, and he crumples. 

Wolffe takes another step. Ventress squirms and writhes, eventually managing to get out of the ARF trooper’s hold. She spins around and sends him flying face first into a steel support column.

Ventress turns back toward him. They’re so close that Wolffe can see the sickly yellow of her eyes through the slits in the mask. He pulls the trigger on his blaster. 

The shot echoes around the alleyway as she falls backward, a charred circle in the center of her chest. Her hands scramble at the wound, as if to pull it off of her. Wolffe looks down at his hands again, he hadn't even realized he’d unholstered his blaster. He hears Ventress make a wet, gurgling noise before collapsing on the ground and falling silent. 

The remaining Guards around him stand, staring at the unnatural way her body lays, then they look up at him. The blaster falls from Wolffe’s shaking hands, the clatter of it hitting the ground just as loud as the shot he’d fired. Wolffe wants to scream, it’s like his body isn’t his own. His vision is blurry and his teeth are chattering so loud it’s all he can hear. 

He and the other troopers look up at the sound of someone running. It’s Wildfire, the ‘Pack’s reserve medic, Wolffe recognizes his shiny plates. He doesn’t even acknowledge Ventress’ body as he runs over to Wolffe and whips his bucket off.

“Sir?” He inquires. Then, louder, when Wolffe doesn’t react, “SIR!” The only thing that he can do is tilt his helmet in Wildfire’s general direction, the rest of his energy taken up by trying not to come apart at the seams. “I’m taking your bucket off,” he says clearly. With the plastoid barrier gone colors are more vivid and sounds more intense. Wolffe feels himself sway on his feet as the sensory overload makes him dizzy. 

Wildfire bites out a curse and taps at his vambrace. “Yeah?” Someone on the other end of the comm answers. 

“Boost, it’s Wildfire, something’s wrong with the commander. He-- he killed Ventress.” The only answer they receive for a painfully long moment is static. 

Then, “I’m on my way.” 

Behind them, the Guardsmen whisper something to each other, nodding. One of them says something into his vambrace. They move toward Ventress’ body, picking it up by the arms to drag it out of view of the street. 

Some part of Wolffe knows that she’s gone, that he’d killed her, but another sees her pale arms raising and thinks she is getting up; as if resurrected by the Force itself. Something snaps inside him them, and his stomach lurches violently and sends him to his knees. He hadn’t had time to grab something at the mess before they were called on their hunt, and all that comes up when he vomits is bile. 

* * *

Something is wrong, Plo can _feel_ it. It makes every muscle in his body tense as he stands up from his seat in the middle of the emergency Council meeting and practically sprints to the door. The Guardsmen startle as he runs down the halls to the hangar, but he pays their shouts little mind. He is only focused on one thing: Wolffe is in pain.

It doesn’t take long for Plo to find him, not after borrowing a speeder from one of the troopers at the Temple, and his heart stops as he enters the alleyway. He doesn’t bother parking, just jumps off the speeder as soon as it touches down. 

Wolffe is on his knees on the ground, arms wrapped tight around his stomach, and there, laying along the wall, is the lifeless body of Asajj Ventress. Plo can imagine what happened. 

“General!” Sinker calls, waving an arm out towards him. He brushes past him and all the other troopers, only stopping in front of Wildfire. 

“What happened?” He demands. Wildfire’s brow is creased in concern, eyes continuously darting down to the commander.

“The Guards said that he saw Ventress and just…froze, sir.” Wildfire explains, gesturing to the Guardsmen standing next to the body. “And then he shot her. Boost sent me over to make sure no one had been hurt, and he was just _like this_ ,” Wildfire says desperately, gesturing down to Wolffe’s body. “The only response I’ve gotten out of him, physical or verbal, is when he threw up when they moved her body.” Wildfire worries his lip between his teeth. Plo lays a hand on his shoulder.

“You did well, Wildfire, I will take it from here.” The anxiety lessens from his expression and he gives a small and relieved “yes, sir” as he goes to join the rest of the Wolfpack, guarding a cuffed Ahsoka. She gives him a sympathetic look from between the troopers. 

Plo kneels, careful of his claws as he rubs the back of Wolffe’s neck soothingly. “Wolffe?” He asks, gently. “Can you hear me?” As the sound of his voice, Wolffe’s head lifts, eyes searching for him, only to cringe violently when he is met with Ventress’ body once more. He shudders and shrinks in on himself, shoulders shaking. 

Plo pulls his commander to him, allowing Wolffe to press into his robes, and gestures to the idle troopers to move the body somewhere else. “Wolffe,” Plo says, “it’s gone now. Can you talk?” 

He feels Wolffe’s jaw open and shut several times before the commander begins to speak. “I-- I don’t know…I don’t know what happened. She was just-- It was-- She was just _there_. And it was like it was all happening again.” Wolffe babbles into his robes, voice cracking with unvoiced sobs. He starts hyperventilating, and Plo runs a hand through his hair. 

“It’s alright Wolffe. You’ll be alright. You need to match my breathing…in…out…Good, just like that.” 

“Please don’t decommission me.” Wolffe pleads after a moment, voice small, and Plo’s heart breaks further. “I’ll-- I’ll do whatever I have to, just…please don’t decommission me.” His hands fist tight in the fabric of Plo's robes. 

“Listen to me, Wolffe,” Plo says, voice strained with emotion, “I will never let anyone take you. No one. Not the Senate or the Separatists or the Kaminoans. You are my son. And I will keep you safe.” 

Wolffe does sob then, a single broken sound. Plo lets him cling to his robes for as long as he needs to. They don’t move for several long moments, and the entire time he can feel Ahsoka’s eyes boring into the back of his head. 

Plo feels conflicted, he knows that his priority right now is making sure that Wolffe is alright, but he can’t help but feel the need to comfort Ahsoka as well. All the evidence that had been collected from the explosion pointed toward Ahsoka being the culprit, but it all fit together a little too nicely for Plo’s liking. But he can’t even attempt to comprehend why Ahsoka would stoop so low as to work with Ventress, a woman known to be—at least formerly—a Sith Assassin, nevertheless someone who kidnapped, tortured, and severely wounded Wolffe. 

Plo sighs, he can only focus on so many things at once. Wolffe’s shaking has lessened to small tremors and he runs his clawed hand through his hair. His breathing starts to slow, deepening from the shallow hiccups it had been when he arrived. 

“Wolffe,” Plo asks softly, continuing when he raises his head, though he does not meet his eyes. “Do you think you can stand?” 

Wolffe nods, “yes, general.” Plo helps him up and stands before him.

“Wolffe, I need to go direct the men. Are you okay to be by yourself, or do you want Wildfire here with you?” 

He hears Wolffe swallow, “I’ll be okay.” Plo watches for a moment, before backing away and turning toward his troops. 

“Master Plo!” Ahsoka calls. Plo looks at her and sees the distress and worry in her eyes. In his heart he knows that Ahsoka is innocent, but she is not the one who needs him now. He raises a hand and silences her calls for him.

“We will speak later, Ahsoka.” Her face falls. “Take Padawan Tano back to the Temple. I will follow you shortly.” The men let out a “yes, sir” and begin moving. 

Plo turns back to Wolffe. His eyes seem clearer than before, which is good, but he can still feel the remnants of his fear and anxiety in the Force. “Wolffe,” he asks as he steps up toward his commander. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better, sir, thank you.” Wolffe says, though he still will not look him in the eyes. “We should return to the Temple, the Council will be expecting you.” He says, and tries to move around him, but Plo stops him with a hand against his breastplate.

“Wolffe, you have nothing to be ashamed of, you know.” 

The commander hangs his head. “I should be better than this,” he says mournfully. “It was a moment of weakness sir, it won’t happen again.” He waves a hand back toward where Ventress’ body laid.

“No one is immune to trauma, my son.” Wolffe looks to the side, clearly not believing Plo’s words. 

“Can we go back to the Temple now, sir?” Wolffe asks, and for a moment he really does sound like a thirteen year old boy.

Plo sighs, Jedi are supposed to have compassion for all life, but he can not help but hate the Kaminoans for their treatment of the troopers, for the lies they forced into their minds. He will spend the rest of his life trying to teach them otherwise. That vulnerability is not weakness. That they are people, not numbers, not products, _people_. Who deserved rights and respect. 

Plo’s brow creases, “of course, Wolffe.” Wolffe’s shoulders dip as he lets out a sigh and he walks toward the speeder Plo had arrived on. “I’ll drive, Wolffe,” he says as the commander rights the machine.

“Very well, sir.” Wolffe says and moves so Plo can climb on. With Wolffe sitting behind him, Plo starts the engine and begins the drive back toward the Temple.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Mando'a Translations  
> Kaminii'se - Kaminoans


End file.
